No One Ever Really Moves On
by Midsummer's Day
Summary: Death and break-ups are a part of life, but you don't ever really move on. K2/Eventual Style.


**A/N: Hey! Thanks for checking out my story, and I hope you enjoy it! I had another account, but I decided to just start over kind of. I'm really looking forward to writing the story and getting feedback from you all. Oh and I hope you all don't kill absolutely kill me for keeping Karen at a young age, even though they're older.  
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><p>I stared at the flimsy newspaper for a solid five minutes, but it still didn't register. My bewilderment wasn't broken by the sound of Kenny's alarm clock, the giggles of Karen, or even after I heard my name being called repeatedly.<p>

"Kyle!" A hand landed on my shoulder. I looked to the person that possessed the arm. It was Kenny, who stood with a worried look on his face, and his head slightly cocked to the right. "What's up?"

I could hear water running in the bathroom and the quiet sound of Karen brushing her teeth. It still didn't register in my brain what I saw.

"Kenny, Wendy…" I pause and raise the newspaper to him. "She died."

His jaw drops for a moment before he closes it and grabs the paper from me. He scans the paper, his lips mouthing the words.

WENDY TESTABURGER, AGE 20  
>Found dead in parent's home on the morning of Monday, March 1st. Evidence goes to show that it was a suicide. She hanged herself in the guest bedroom the night before, somewhere around midnight. Funeral services will be held at the local funeral home one week from today.<p>

"A suicide?" He looks to me.

I shrug. "I just can't believe it."

He tosses the paper back down on the dining table and heads for the kitchen. Karen appears from the bathroom, dressed in her pink silk nightgown. Sleepiness still hangs around her like a cloud, but she smiles at me and says, "Good morning, Daddy!"

Her smile distracts me from the bitter news. I smile back at her and say, "Good morning. Did you sleep okay last night?"

She blinks and stares off for a second before she nods, making her whole body rock with her motion. At seven years old, she hones a small stature and long brunette hair that frames her big brown eyes that always seem to question things.

She also heads for the kitchen and grabs a bowl and some cereal. I have to suppress a laugh as Kenny and her do an awkward kind of dance as she tries not to step on his feet or get in his way and he tries not to step on her. They laugh as she almost drops the glass bowl. She sits across from me and I can feel her small feet mixing the air beneath us as she kicks her feet.

What a joy it'd be to just go back when we were all seven.

"How do you think Stan's doing?" Kenny says without a thought as he sips his morning coffee.

I run my hand through my hair. Find something to say, anything to show that that name doesn't affect me anymore. "I don't know. Crushed, probably. I don't know." I sigh and rest my head in my hand, my fingers touching my lip. I look at the paper again.

It's a picture of just Wendy, no Stan by her side. It's from the senior pictures she took, so of course she looks amazing. Her long black hair, usually pin straight perfection, is curled and twisting like whip cream and topped off with the purple cherry of her cashmere beret. Her smile is wide and her eyes are made up with eyeliner and mascara. Even if I hate her, she always looked attractive, I have to admit.

"Who died?" Karen cuts the silence.

"One of Kyle's friends." Kenny replies.

"If you could call her that," I say under my breath.  
>Kenny catches my words and laughs.<p>

Karen's expression quickly makes a 360, from a childish happy to an extreme despair. "I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

I look at her and smile. "Yes, of course. I'm fine. Don't be worried." She doesn't look swayed, but she continues eating her cereal.

Kenny crosses the kitchen to me and kisses the top of my head, and then does the same to Karen. "I'm gonna take a shower." He covers her ears and looks to me. "Wanna come?" He jokes.

I bite my lip and try not to think how that sentence could have a double meaning. "I think I'll pass for right now." I wink and he drops his hands from her ears. He pouts, but happily struts off to the bathroom.

Karen finishes her cereal as I take one last glance at the paper. It's unreal to even think she's gone. And you'd think I'd throw a celebration party right about now.

Karen plops herself on the couch and starts her morning cartoons. I take the opportunity to make a call to another old "friend."

"Ay!" A voice as irritating as nails on a chalkboard answers.

I force myself to relax. Even talking to him makes me tense. I cough before saying, "Hey, Eric, it's Kyle."

A loud, bellowing laugh comes from the other line. "Well well well, if it ain't the fucking Jew!"

"Yeah, it's me. Whatever." It feels like we're back in school again. I keep myself from thinking back to all the fights and words thrown back and forth. "I just saw in the newspaper that Wendy died. You know that?"

He stops his laughing and, if I'm not mistaken, sighs. He clears his throat. "Yeah, I heard. What you doin' bringing that up? Like it isn't bad enough here."

"Is it really that bad there? How's her parents? Bebe?" I find it funny I ask about the well-being of Bebe, but I can't reject the fact that South Park must be almost in some kind of paranoid, saddening chaos.

I sigh, feeling guilty that I feel so happy about Kenny and I moving away as soon as we finished high school. Too much ending drama. Kenny's home life was getting worse and worse each day, especially with the spreading new that we had starting dating. No one dared fuck with him at school, one being the sheer fact that it _was_ Kenny we're talking about here, and the other being _everyone_, until the very last diploma handed out at graduation, was in a state of confusion about it being Kenny and I.

Not _Stan_ and I.

But no one knew what went down between Stan and I that changed not only our friendship, but us as people. So you couldn't blame them. And every time they dared whispered loud enough for Stan or me to hear, if for any reason we were in the same room together, we waved them off. We dismissed their invasive questions, and tried our best to not let it get to us.

"The blonde whore I haven't heard from, but word's been traveling that she's spiraling down. And how the fuck would I know what her parents would be going through? Probably mourning or some shit. Is this all you called for?"

"I was just wondering if you were going to the funeral," I ask. It's a stupid question, of course he would; one couldn't count the number of times that after a typical Stan and Wendy break up she go to him. You know, before moving on to then Token or someone, and _then _back to Stan.

"Yeah, I am." He lets a moment go by before he stutters, and adds. "I-I mean, because it's obligatory. That's all. I'd get all kinds of shit for it if I didn't go."

I smile, and play dumb. "Yeah, of course. Well that's all I called for."

"Better get back to your fag, I'm sure."

I resist the urge to curse since Karen's around, so I just simply hang up.

I check the time on the microwave. Seven thirty. Still an hour and a half before Karen needs to go to school. Only five minutes have passed since Kenny started his shower, and I'd learned a character trait of his was he always took twenty minute showers.

Well, if he was alone they were only twenty minutes.

I clean up Karen's bowl and refill the coffee cup. Though these simple actions don't divert the only thought running in my head;

Call him.  
>Call him.<p>

I can't deny the anxious feeling that the thought brings to me. I want to, but I know that I couldn't.

As cliché, I don't even know what I'd say.

I finally cave in and decide to call Stan.

I dial the numbers that I couldn't forget even if I went through years of memory-erasing or some kind of cruel torture. I wait patiently for the ringing and lean against the kitchen counter. I tug on a curl of mine, twisting it around my finger.

At last, the sound of someone picking up on the other side. My breath catches in my throat. I go in for a hello, when my heart drops to my stomach.

_"We're sorry, the number you have dialed is either shut off or no longer in service."  
><em>

I let out my breath, disappointed. I hit the END button and throw my phone like a Frisbee on the counter. I scratch the back of my neck, a little too hard, but my engrossing thoughts keep me from noticing. I should laugh at myself for how I was acting.

He's got better, more important people to associate than me.

Hadn't I moved on?

One week from now would be Wendy's funeral. Karen would be out on Spring Break and Kenny could take off work. That is, if he even wanted to go.

Could I go alone? I amuse the thought. Could I go and see the girl who ruined it all, lying in a coffin? What would Stan's reaction be to me being there? Would he even anticipate my presence?

I push myself off the counter. Of course I could go alone, if it really came down to it.

I sigh, realizing how much the news of Wendy's death will affect my day. Even though I haven't been up for even a full hour, I feel as though I need a nap. Nostalgia's a bitch.

I head over to the hall closet, beginning my search for something to calm the feeling. I rummage around, through old winter coats and numerous discarded orange parkas, until I find what I set out for. I blow the dust off the cover of a leather bound picture album. My smile grows into something wicked. I raise myself from the floor and turn to the kitchen, where I'm met with a surprise.

Kenny stands, pouring coffee into a travel cup, clad in a white button up shirt, black slacks and a black tie.

"Someone's looking totally fine this morning," I say with an eyebrow raised.

He turns with a slightly confused, if not defensive, look on his face. "What," he says, "do I look stupid?"

I laugh, grab his tie, pull him to me and wrap my arms around his neck. "No, no. You look absolutely _devine,_" I say in a low voice.

His eyes lower as he goes in for a kiss. His free hand finds itself caressing the back of my head, stroking, playing with my curls.

As we part, I keep my arms locked behind his head.

"I'm proud of you, Kenny."

The sentence throws him off guard. His blue eyes widen. "Huh?" He breathes.

I kiss his cheek. "I'm just glad to have you, okay?" I smile.

And it's like he's ten again. A genuine look of surprise and pride are visible, written all over his face.

I suddenly feel something small, but quite heavy, press against my legs. I twist my neck, and I see Karen hugging both of our legs.

"I love brother, too!"

I smile and separate myself from Kenny, who crouches down to her level and kisses her forehead and ruffles her hair. "Brother loves you too, Karen."

A beeping sound interrupts the moment. Kenny shoots his watch a look. "Ah, shit." He quickly stands and heads for the door of the apartment. He rapidly puts his shoes on, after turning to us both and saying his good-bye, and for Karen not to get into anything at school.

And with that, he's out the door.

I lick my lips and look at the clock. Eight o'clock on the dot. An hour still until Karen needs to be at school.

"Dad, who are these people?"

I turn my attention to her. She's sitting at the table, staring at the very first photo in the album. I walk over and take a peek at the photo.

Stan, Me, Cartman and Kenny stand at our usual hang out. The sacred bus stop. We all have our regular ten year old attire; same hats, parkas, sweaters.

I pull up a chair next to her, and say, "Let me tell you a story, that's origin is not too far from here..."

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><p><strong>I feel like this isn't a very good first chapter, but I hoped you like it and stick around. I'm really excited to write this story.<strong>  
><strong>Oh, and the next chapter you'll find out why Karen calls Kyle "dad" and why they took her in and all.<strong>


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